OUR ARRANGEMENT

disclaimer: I own nothing of CBS/CSI.

We're in your apartment.

Our clothes are scattered all over the floor. I know I will be picking up my blouse somewhere on your couch in the living room. And you might laugh again as I'll try to reach for one of my heels that went directly under your bed as I kicked it off.

We're here for one reason. Sex.

We've been seeing each other for more than three months now. I can't say we're exclusive because from the start you already told me that it's all about sex, nothing more and nothing less. Your rules, not mine. And like a fool, I agreed because I just wanted to be with you.

So after shift we head to either your place or mine. Touching, groping, kissing each other hungrily. Tearing each other's clothes off the moment your door or my door closes.

I remember how it all started. It was after a case we both were assigned to. Out of the blue, you asked me out to breakfast, and with nothing planned I agreed. We sat across each other in a booth at the end of the diner, sipping our coffee trying to survive with our small talk. I know we're not the best of friends or even friends for that matter. We're more of acquaintances, coworkers. We argue constantly, have our difference of opinions. Sometimes we have our shouting matches in the breakroom, my office or in the locker room.

There are nights where I just want to reach out and slap you. And again there are nights where I want to push you up against the wall, grab your hands and pin them behind you, whisper in your ear how much I want to fuck you. How much I want to touch every part of your body, feel you, be in you. Watch your body rise with every touch I make, wanting to hear you beg for me to go deeper and faster. Begging me for release. Yes, I am attracted to you. For months I have been watching you, observing you, craving for you, wanting you.

Sure we still argue, but it's better than no contact with you at all. It has been something for me to look forward to. No matter how angry or pissed I am at you, I look forward to to this. It turns me on to have your fury solely directed at me. The fire in your eyes, the slow controlled breathing, the hatred I feel from you. Like a sick person, I crave for our 'interaction'. And when I get home I take off my clothes, grab my toy and pump it in me, cursing and whispering your name till I have my release.

So here we are, after shift in a diner for breakfast. You're making circles on your plate with your fork.

I look at you. "Sara, stop doing that."

Your eyes meet mine. "Is it bothering you?"

I lean forward on the table. "Would I tell you to stop if it didn't bother me?"

We stare at each other and I know this breakfast might turn again into a fighting match over you not stopping making those damned circles on your plate with a fork.

You're eyes are still on mine and that is clearly a smirk I see on your lips. My anger is slowly building. I reach out and stop your hand from making that irritating monotonous movement.

Your voice is an octave lower as you pronounce each word slowly. "Take your hand off, Catherine."

"Or what." I challenge.

"Or I will fuck you right here in front of everyone."

With my hand still on top of your hand, I lock my eyes on yours."Well, good then," I say in a low voice, "I always wanted you to do that."

Your eyebrow rises, "Don't fuck with me here, Catherine. I'm not in the mood for moldy jokes."

"Who said I was joking?" I let go of your hand and lean back. "Your place or mine?"

You stand up, throw a few dollars on the table and take a step forward. You turn your head to me. "My place. Now."

And here we are now in your apartment, three months later.

I slowly and quietly move and sit at the edge of the bed. I turn around and watch you sleep. Mesmerized at how peaceful and beautiful you look. This morning you're sleeping on your side facing me, your arm loosely drapes on the pillow above you. Your hair falls over your face, and I have this strong urge to reach out and tuck it behind your ear. But I don't for fear of waking you up and loosing these few precious moments where I get to watch and admire every feature of you.

Yes, I have fallen for you. I have to admit, I am inlove with you. Don't ask me how or why because I cannot explain it myself. It's not that it just jumped on me all of the sudden. I think it's our constant togetherness, how we don't argue as much anymore. Maybe it's the look in your eyes when I catch you staring at me, or how you suddenly flash a smile at me as we pass each other in the hall way. Maybe it started the time you held the door open for me to come in first, or the time you brought me coffee in my office for no reason at all. It could be the time you made me blush when you said I look beautiful in my new blouse. Or maybe it started one late night at the lab when you let me hold your hand as you related to me your childhood stories of being shipped to different foster cares before the age of twelve. Or it could be the way how you would focus on me like I was the only person you see in a crowded room. Sometimes I think it's when I started to notice the look in your eyes before you kiss me. More of sincerity, passion, honesty.

I don't know exactly the moment... I just know it's there. I care for you. I love you. But I have to realize one truth in this relationship of ours... That I'll never really have you completely. It's just all about sex. As it was agreed from the start, when you said 'nothing more, nothing less.'

So here I am again, slowly picking up my clothes and quietly putting them on. I head to the bathroom to comb my hair and fix myself up. I look at myself in the mirror and think to myself what a fool I am to I let this continue, knowing you will never feel anything for me but the need to be sexually gratified.

I come out and slowly sit at the edge of the bed again, careful not to wake you up. I gaze at you and watch you sleep. I try to freeze this moment in my mind, how you look so peaceful and so beautiful. I wish you would feel this way about yourself. That you are a beautiful person and if you look in the right places, you might find the peace you've always been searching for. I wish I could help you find that peace. I also wish I could say you will never be alone, that I will be there for you if you let me in your life. I do wish for a lot of things when it comes to you.

But I can't because of what we agreed on. It's only sex, nothing more... Nothing less.

So I stand up and quietly whisper the words I now say before I leave. "I love you, Sara. Always." Words I know I could never say out loud for fear of destroying what we have.

I walk to the door, take one last look at you sleeping and gently close it behind me.

What I will never hear is how you open your eyes and whisper the words back to me.

"I love you too, Catherine. If only I could also say it to you."

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